


I Crave You

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Sexual Situations, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Massage, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, firefighter!Allison, masseuse!Erica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison realizes her mistakes as soon as she walks into the clinic.</p>
<p>Her first mistake was giving into Lydia.  Which isn’t to say Lydia’s not usually right; 99.9% of the time, she is, and she knows it.  But generally Allison knows how to gently steer Lydia away from whatever it is she’s fixating on without having to give into whatever it is she wants her to do (whether it be dress shopping or trying to get her involved in investigating a suspected murderer without any form of back up beyond Lydia’s Taser).</p>
<p>This time, it’s getting a massage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Crave You

**Author's Note:**

> tswizzin on tumblr gave me the prompt: 'how about erica is allison's masseuse' and this is the result.
> 
> There are a couple of very light dom/sub undertones and some sexual tension. At one point, Allison is in a humiliating sexual situation * (I'll detail this in the end notes so if it may squick anyone, they can check). Everything that happens in this fic happens with explicit consent. 
> 
> Link to post on tumblr: http://maliaslydiamartin.tumblr.com/post/122125350979/prompts-how-about-erica-is-allisons-masseuse

Allison realizes her mistakes as soon as she walks into the clinic.

Her first mistake was giving into Lydia. Which isn’t to say Lydia’s not usually _right_ ; 99.9% of the time, she is, and she knows it. But generally Allison knows how to gently steer Lydia away from whatever it is she’s fixating on without having to give into whatever it is she wants her to do (whether it be dress shopping or trying to get her involved in investigating a suspected murderer without any form of back up beyond Lydia’s Taser).

This time, it’s getting a massage.

It’s relatively harmless, in theory. She’s stressed, has been for the past, oh, only four or so years. She focuses too much on work, she can admit to that; but in her line of work, it’s not like slacking is really an option. She risks her life fairly regularly. The times she and the crew are called out to a pretty simple fire in a trash can incident balances out the amount of times she has to go into a burning building, but that doesn’t mean the stress doesn’t get to her. She’s tense and she’s been a little...snappy lately, she knows that (Lydia and Malia have pointed it out plenty enough times; Scott too in his own sweeter way). A mixture of work related stress and having not had sex in close to seven months has darkened her mood a little.

But in her twenty seven years of life, Allison’s never had a massage. It’s just not something that’s ever appealed to her; stripping down and letting some total stranger get their hands on her. With sticky oils, too, it’s gross. She can’t even stand the necessity of rubbing sunscreen into her skin, let alone those weird fragrant massage oils. So her first answer had been a firm ‘no’. Except, as stubborn as she always has been (and probably always will be), Lydia’s, like, ten times more hardheaded and this wasn’t something she was apparently going to just let go, so, eventually, she’d made the mistake of just giving in to avoid the hassle.

Her second mistake was not looking into the place Lydia had booked her into, or into the masseuse.

Because she is _stunning_.

She has that fierce, demanding kind of beauty, the sort of drop-dead gorgeousness that can make a whole room go quiet to focus on her. Her blonde hair is loose and set in perfect curls and her eyes are a warm, dark brown, rimmed with eyeliner. She’s wearing the kind of dark red lipstick Allison’s never been able to pull off and underneath her soft pink tunic, black jeans show off long, shapely legs. There’s a name tag on her tunic saying ‘Erica’. Allison realizes she’s holding her breath, just sort of staring at her from the doorway, but the masseuse seems used to it because she just offers a wide smile, and _fuck_. The cold, almost alienating quality to her beauty is replaced by warmth, her eyes crinkling up, and tiny miss-them-if-you-blink dimples show up.

Allison is _so_ fucked.

“Hi,” she finally manages. “I’m -.”

“Allison, right?” Erica holds out a hand. “Argent?”

She nods, shaking her hand; the woman’s hands are smoother than she’d expected, but her grip is firm. “I have an appointment at three?”

“I know,” Erica laughs slightly. “Normally I’m booked up at least three weeks in advance. Your girlfriend was pretty... _insistent_.”

Allison doubts this woman is the type to let anyone pressure her into anything, but then, Lydia’s good at bulldozing her way into getting what she wants. 

“Lydia’s not my girlfriend,” she says. “Just my best friend.”

Erica hums slightly. “She seems like a pretty considerate best friend.”

Allison nods, because for all that Lydia’s stubborn and demanding, she’s also the best friend Allison’s ever had; she’s smart, she’s caring, she’s considerate. She’s put her life at risk for Allison before. She knows she’s lucked into having a friend as amazing as Lydia Martin.

“Yeah,” she says softly, “She is.”

Erica gives a sad sort of smile. “Must be nice.”

Before Allison can reply, Erica’s leading her through to another room. It’s large and open, well lit and peaceful. It smells fresh and there’s a vase of flowers on Erica’s desk. 

“I’ll give you a few minutes to get comfortable,” Erica says, gesturing to the table.

Allison nods sort of distractedly. She’s felt off guard since she walked in, defences broken down since the moment she laid eyes on the masseuse. It’s only when Erica leaves, though, closing the door with a soft click, that it actually hits her that she’s about to have the blonde’s hands on her bare skin, and she closes her eyes, thumping her head back against the wall. She’s never going to give into Lydia again.

She could not do it. She could feign sickness, or just slip out now and make a run for it. But instead she stands there for a long moment, gazing at the table. Because...she doesn’t want to leave. The thought of being vulnerable, of the gorgeous masseuse touching her, is a little terrifying, and yet she doesn’t want to leave. She wants to talk to her more. 

“So, so fucked,” she mutters to herself.

Finally, she strips off her clothes, folding them neatly and setting them on the chair with her shoes. There’s a towel ready for her and she gets comfortable on the table before slipping the towel over her butt to cover it. Aside from that, her skin is bare, and she takes a deep breath, wriggling slightly until she’s settled. Surprisingly, the table is more comfortable than it looks, and she closes her eyes, just trying to relax.

She hears the door open and the soft sound of Erica’s shoes on the carpet. Soft, calming music starts playing and she focuses on that as she waits. She’s hyper aware of herself; stray hairs that have come loose from her bun tickling the nape of her neck, goosebumps on her skin, the way the towel feels against her. Above the music, she can hear her own breaths, a little fast and shaky.

The first touch makes her jump slightly, but then she closes her eyes and forces her body still. The oil does feel a little strange at first, but it’s not as sticky as sunscreen, and it’s not cold like she’d expected – it’s warm and smooth, helping Erica’s hands glide over her skin. Erica’s hands, too, are warm and feel good. She’s started with her feet and Allison’s normally ticklish, squirming and laughing at the barest touch against her bare feet, but Erica’s got just the right technique, firm enough not to tickle, but not putting too much pressure against the skin. She gives a gentle pull on each toe, massages the ball and heel of her foot, but then she focuses on the arches and it feels so good. Most days, by the time she gets home Allison’s feet _ache_ and she knows she should take better care of them – should take better care of _all_ of her body, really, giving the physical demands of her career. Tension she didn’t even know she had eases and she realizes her body’s gone from stiff to completely relaxed and at ease. She gives a soft little sigh, not fighting the blissful feeling.

She tenses again, however, at the first sweep of Erica’s hands up her leg. She starts with a couple of light strokes from her calf to her upper thigh, smoothly stretching the skin to ease her into the massage, then focuses on the calf, kneading to work the calf muscle, and Allison actually _moans_ it feels so good, so _relieving_ , relaxing the ache there. 

“Do you do a lot of physical training?” Erica asks. Her voice is pitched soft, not too loud and intrusive over the peaceful music, but it still makes Allison jump slightly. She spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to scramble herself back together to answer. 

“I’m, uh. I’m a firefighter.” 

She’s not met with the usual surprise at that. Instead, Erica makes a sound almost as if she’d known that already. “I can tell,” she says. 

Allison flushes; she’s in good shape, she has to be. Her body is toned. She’s strong and she’s fit. The difference between training hard and slacking could be someone’s life, maybe her own. Though hearing Erica compliment her on her body is flattering, she can’t help but blush at the reminder of being almost entirely naked. “Um...thanks.” 

There’s a quiet laugh. “I mean, I can tell you have to do a lot of tough physical work. Your calves are really tight.” 

Allison’s squeezes her eyes shut in mortification. “Right.” 

“Relax,” Erica encourages, doing another sweep and Allison can’t help but do as the blonde says, letting her body relax again as she takes slow, deep breaths. 

The peace doesn’t last long. Just as she’s feeling almost sleepy, Erica’s hands move higher, kneading her upper thigh. Her knuckles brush the sensitive skin on her inner thigh and Allison shivers, breath hitching. She tries to block it out, remind herself that it’s _just a massage_ , but it’s so intimate, Erica’s hands stroking and caressing her flesh, so close to where she could really give her bliss. 

Goosebumps ripple over her skin as she draws in a shaky breath, feeling that tight feeling in her gut. She curls her toes and tries to focus on the music, but she can _feel_ how wet she already is and it’s humiliating. She wants to press her thighs together, but she doesn’t want to alert Erica to how aroused she is and make her situation even more mortifying. 

“It’s okay,” Erica says softly after a second. “It happens. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Your first massage, right?” 

Humiliation scratches up Allison’s throat. She can’t speak for a few long, cruel seconds as she tries to find an excuse. “Yeah,” she finally whispers. 

“It’s okay,” Erica reassures her again. “You’re very hyper sensitive. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

_Sure it isn’t_ , Allison thinks. “You’re not the one naked on a table with a stranger’s hands on your body.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

And just like that, the situation’s so much better. Erica’s giving her an out. She’s so fucking wet and embarrassed, but she can put a stop to this right now, she can get dressed and leave and never, ever come back. In a few months, she can look back at this with embarrassment and amusement. Maybe it’s a story she can use to make her friends laugh someday. 

But what she says is, “No.” 

She doesn’t want Erica to stop. She wants her to keep going and the masseuse herself had said it was okay. _It happens_. She’s seen it before. She’s not even fazed by it. Erica’s hands feel too good to stop now. 

She wants her hands to go higher, wants her fingers where she _really_ needs them to touch. She bites her lip, thinks of Erica sliding her fingers through Allison’s wetness before dipping inside, and this time she _does_ press her thighs together, breaths coming short and shaky. 

But Erica doesn’t. 

She finishes before moving onto the other leg and it’s a slow kind of torture. She’s so torn, relaxing one moment at the deep, soothing massage, then tensing at the eroticism of Erica’s hands on her upper thighs. Just when she thinks that maybe Erica might make that move, finally give her what she wants, her hands move instead to Allison’s back, massaging from her lower to upper back. It still feels good, slow and relaxing, and eventually, she gives up hope, lets herself relax again. Erica’s hands press into the skin of her upper back, then quickly release, and she sighs softly, eyes drifting shut. She groans as Erica works the knots, easing her tension, and Allison hasn’t felt this relaxed and at peace in a very long time. 

By the time Erica’s massaged her neck and finished with Allison’s arms and hands, she’s almost asleep. It takes a few minutes of soft, sleepy breaths and calm to realize that Erica’s not touching her at all anymore. She slowly raises her head, blinking a little. 

“Feel good?” Erica smiles, rubbing the remaining oil off her hands with a towel. 

Allison nods. “Yeah,” she says softly. 

Erica smiles. “Take as long as you need and come out when you’re done.” 

Allison lowers her head again. When she hears the soft click of the door shutting, she releases a slow breath. She takes a few minutes, just enjoying the loose limbed kind of bliss, before finally getting up. She dresses slowly, trying to orient herself again. She feels relaxed, she feels good, and yet...she’s so sexually frustrated. 

Erica’s behind the counter when she comes out. Allison has so many things on the tip of her tongue, but what she says is, “Can I book another appointment?” 

Erica smiles wide. “Sure,” she says. 

They book it for a month’s time and Allison pulls out her card, but Erica shakes her head. “You’re already paid up,” she says. 

Allison smiles and makes a mental note to thank Lydia. “Well,” she says, “Thanks. That was...great.” 

“No problem,” Erica says. “I’ll see you in a month’s time.” 

Allison stands there for an awkward moment before managing a smile and nods with a soft, “sure.” She leaves the clinic, climbs into her car, and then slowly lets her forward drop against the steering wheel with a _thunk_. 

“Fucking hell, Allison.” 

The only improvement with the second massage is that Lydia’s smug and pleased that Allison enjoyed the massage enough to willingly book a second one. 

“I told you,” she says, sipping her coffee. “They’re great there.” 

Before she can help it, Allison asks, “Who do you go to?” 

Lydia pauses, hiding a knowing kind of smile behind her cup. “Jules. He’s the best one there, but he gets booked up months ahead. If Erica’s good though, I might go to her occasionally, skip the wait.” 

Allison can’t explain it with any kind of logic – Erica must massage a dozen people a day – but she can’t stand the thought of Erica massaging Lydia. Hates the idea of the same hands that had made her so blissful do the same to Lydia. 

“She was okay, I guess,” she says. “It helped, like you said it would. She was just a little too firm in places.” 

Lydia gives a little hum. “Maybe not, then,” she replies and changes the subject. 

But the massage itself? Is just as torturous. She’d hoped that maybe she wouldn’t be as sensitive the second time round, but at the soft caresses of Erica’s hands, she finds herself getting aroused again. And again, Erica reassures her and asks her if she wants to stop. And again, Allison says no. She thinks that maybe this time, Erica might take the hint and go higher, touch Allison where she wants – where she _needs_ – her to. 

She wants Erica’s hand in her hair, forcing her to her knees. She wants her hands on her ass and her mouth on hers, wants Erica to fuck her right over this table. The very idea has her squeezing her thighs shut and her breaths coming shaky, but still Erica doesn’t make that move. She finishes the massage just the same as last time, and just like last time, Allison’s left both relaxed and frustrated. 

She books a third appointment, then a fourth. She finds herself looking forward to them, counting down the weeks, looking forward to that delicious torture. She finds herself thinking of Erica’s gorgeous eyes and warm smile, dreams of her voice. Her fantasies involve a lot of fucking, but the more she talks to Erica during the massages, the more she learns about the blonde – that she ran away at sixteen and used to sleep in an abandoned subway before finding her feet, pushing herself to achieve and get her masseuse qualification, that she’s epileptic and faced so much challenges from it but has found that management, that she’s at peace with herself and her condition; she tells Allison about her cat, Mr Socks, and she’s a total _Star Wars_ nerd, and she lives with two guys who are total opposites but she adores them both like brothers anyway – and the more Allison finds herself fantasizing about just being with her. Waking up together on Sundays for late morning cuddles, watching _Star Wars_ together in their rattiest pajamas, their cats snuggled up on their laps. She dreams about introducing Erica to her friends and playfully giving Erica massages when she’s stressed, telling her to _relax_. 

She’s aware of just how fucked she is. She just wishes it was more in the _literal_ sense. 

The fifth appointment, she just can’t take it anymore and finally begs, “ _Touch me_.” 

There’s a pause. When Erica speaks, Allison can hear the smile in her voice as she says, “Okay.” 

Allison holds her breath, waiting, but Erica doesn’t do what her reply promises, just finishes the massage, albeit a little faster than usual. Allison feels just as frustrated as ever, but this time she’s _angry_ , too. Is Erica getting off on her mortification? Enjoying watching Allison suffer? 

She doesn’t bother waiting until Erica leaves like she normally does, just gets up and tosses the towel aside. Erica steps back, a little surprised, and watches quietly for a moment as Allison tugs on her panties and jeans roughly. 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“Are you enjoying this?” Allison demands. 

The blonde blinks. “The massages? Yes,” she replies, voice surprisingly soft. 

Allison flushes, clasping her bra and yanking on her shirt. “Is it fun? Watching me suffer?” 

Erica’s lips quirk up slightly. “A little,” she admits. 

Any other time, Allison would give a delicious little shiver at that, but she pushes away her reaction to the promising words. “That first massage, you knew I was turned on. Why didn’t you touch me?” 

Erica stares at her for a second. “Are you kidding? I’m not an asshole.” 

Its Allison’s turn to blink, caught off guard. “What?” 

“You were a stranger. Yeah, an incredibly attractive stranger, but still. A _client_. You were vulnerable. And I told you, it happens. It doesn’t mean you want me like that. Arousal doesn’t automatically mean consent, you know? I wasn’t just going to touch you like that without your consent, Allison. I’m not a pervert.” 

Allison’s stumped for a second, because Erica’s right, of course she is, but she just hadn’t seen in that way. She’d thought she’d been giving the green light from the get go that she definitely, explicitly wanted Erica to make that move. 

“But I said, just now,” she said, anger fizzling away. “You said okay.” 

“And I will,” Erica nods, “If you still want me to. But not when you’re a client on my table. You’re still too vulnerable and it’d make me uncomfortable.” 

Allison bites her lip. “Oh.” 

“But, you have my card with my number. I definitely wouldn’t be uncomfortable with having you vulnerable and turned on in my bed.” 

Her mouth drops open slightly at that. She struggles for words, finally giving a soft little, “ _Oh_.” 

Erica smirks. “You can pick me up at eight. I like Thai food.” 

Lydia doesn’t seem surprised when Allison tells her. She just gives that infuriating knowing smile and nods as Allison gushes about Erica, about their date, helping Allison pick out what to wear. Allison’s stomach’s fluttering with nerves, but she’s excited. Especially as she knows how the date will, hopefully, end up. 

“Oh,” she says after a second. “Remind me to buy you coffee at some point.” 

Lydia holds up a belt against Allison’s dress , then decides against it and tosses it aside. “Why?” 

“For paying for that first massage.” 

Lydia looks up at that, slowly smiling. “I didn’t.” 

A warm, happy feeling washes over Allison as the implications of that settle in. She glances over at the card on her desk with Erica’s number on it, unable to help her smile. She's going to be so fucked. 

**Author's Note:**

> * at the first massage, Allison finds herself getting really turned on. Erica is aware and Allison is incredibly mortified about it. This does get resolved, however, and consent is spoken about (everything that happens within this fic happens with explicit consent - Erica asks her if she wishes to stop when she's embarrassed and turned on, and later, explains why she never touched her more sexually - due to Allison's consent). 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> Got a prompt? maliaslydiamartin.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
